My son is 17 today. One hell of a wild ride and a year to go before he's on his own.  I don't know whether I should be relieved or scared. Probably both. For this week's #WednesdayWritings I submit to you Cry. A poem about motherhood.

Cry
 
A baby cries
Nothing fills me with more fear
Am i good enough?
Will he know me?
Am I up to this?
280 days of insecurity led to this
6720 hours of thinking and rethinking my choice
My desire for motherhood
Making a choice to try
403200 minutes of breathing for another
Listening to frightening advice
Feeling the naysayers tell me
This wasn’t right
Deflecting badly the 1001
pages
thoughts
expressions
telling me everything from
lanolin for tender suckling
to poisoned needles will make him sick
280 nights of worrying myself to sleep
 
A baby cries
Nothing fills me with more relief
I did it!
My body did this!
This being.
He lived
Through 6720 hours of his mother
Worrying
Through doctors taking my choices away
And cutting him out
His beautiful face
Covered in the substance
That kept him alive all this time
Red skin and dark hair
I was made for this
I was created with organs
That held him close
I live in a world where science
Can create those organs for others
All this
So that I could love him
So that he could grow up knowing love
A million tiny movements
Inside of me
And I meet him face to face
 
A baby cries
Exhaustion covers the worry
Is he hungry?
Is he scared?
Is he sick?
Do I need a doctor?
Does he have a rash?
Will it get worse because I didn’t see it in time?
Don’t overfeed
Don’t underfeed
Use diaper rash ointment every time
Never use talc
Don’t eat spicy food
Did I eat something spicy today?
Is that why he’s crying?
 
A baby cries
Blinking sleep from my eyes
I hold him close
The routine takes thought away
Food
Diaper
Burp
Cuddles
Endless nights rocking in place
No rocking chair in sight
Taught me it’s easier
To just lay side by side
Ignoring a thousand complaints
A thousand what if’s
Naysayers using it as explanation
For my bad parenting
For every time my son cries
His little baby cheek rests on my breast
Warm body tucked in next to mine
And I know I made the right choice
Tonight
And all those nights ago
When I chose love
 
A baby cries
He cries and cries and cries
No end in sight
No breast
No bottle
No diaper
No toy
No sound
No love
No touch
Makes one bit of difference
They’re all right about me
I can’t do this
I’m not a good mom
Why won’t he stop?
It’s all the spicy food I like
It’s the formula
He’s allergic breast milk
He’s allergic to peas
Too much sun
Too little fresh air
Everyone has an answer
That tells me I’m doing this wrong
But not one of them
Can make him stop
Make him sleep
 
A baby cries
For hours everyday
I’m a mess
I just want someone to hold me
Love me
Tell me it will be okay
That’s all he wants
This being with my son’s face
Crying
I rock him through
Singing to drown it out
Never giving up
Strength I never knew I had
Showing this tiny person
Love
One day
When the nightmares are too scary
When the bully pushes him down
He’ll know I love him
He’ll know he can come to me
You cry little boy
You cry for however long it takes
I’m here
We’ll cry together
I’m your mom
I love you
 
A baby cries
Stretching his little baby legs
Urge to move and explore
Pulling him farther and farther
From my protection
What will he put in his mouth?
What will he touch?
Should I be keeping closer watch?
Should I spank?
Should I shout?
Should I laugh?
Should I pen him in to a tiny space
Or leash him to my wrist?
Should I let him find out
Things hurt
Or protect from every last lesson
The world has to offer?
I am not up to this
Moving about thing
Why can’t you just smile
From your carseat
And bat at toys I dangle?
Oh no
No!
No that!
Don’t put that--
Ugh
--in your mouth
Well no wonder the tears
Stream down your face
That should never be in your mouth
I’m a horrible mother
And the questions
About my ability
And sanity
begin
 
A baby cries
Weary I shake my head
And hold him close
Cleaning the mess
And stains
He looks to me
Like I have all the answers
Like I can make any booboo better
For a moment
I think I can
There will be a day
When love is no longer enough
To heal the hurts of the world
But that day is not today
He moves
He’s a baby
Nothing is safe from
A marauding mind
And flailing arms and legs
And today a lesson was learned
He’s alive
He smiles reaching
For the next NoNo
I seem to have forgotten to move
Laughter
And fearlessness
He knows I will catch him
Every single time
I know I’ve done everything right
 
A baby cries
This one is not mine
But I know how old
I know what it wants
Just by sound
I didn’t know I had a super power
Given to me by my son
Instinct drives me to tell
This hollow eyed woman
Fear and exhaustion in her gaze
What the baby needs
But I only smile
Remembering all the advice
All the times I thought I wasn’t good enough
And I know my words are not what she needs
Eventually she’ll find the love
She’ll know
She’s strong enough
Good enough
A mom
 
A baby cries
A little girl
While her brother watches on
Nothing fills me with more fear
Nothing fills me with more relief
Nothing fills me with more
Love

I’m going to start this blog with a plea to the readers.  Please remember when raising your children, you are not looking to create a well behaved child; you are looking to create a well rounded adult the rest of us can live with.  How many people did I just piss off?  I hope a lot.  That will keep you reading, and now I have the chance to explain why.

The childhood condition is a temporary one.  In the average lifespan of 80 to 90 years, the time a person spends as a child is less than 15% of their total life.  I’m not a math person, so that’s as close to a solid number you’re going to get from me, but let that sink in.  15% of a lifetime is spent learning how to be a person.  This doesn’t count the teen years, where you are mostly an adult just learning how to make good decisions and what your beliefs are and how to handle society with those beliefs.  With 85% of our lives being adults why do we have such a short view of parenting?

I’m not raising children.  I’m raising people to be functioning adults.  From the very first lesson, to the day they walk out my door the last time, I am making an effort help a person become the best they can be.  I’m not super mom.  I make a lot of mistakes.  I try hard, and cry a lot.   But I’m not focused on my kids being kids.  I’m focused on who they will become.

This is one of those things, that once said (or written) becomes an ‘aha’, ‘well that’s a no brainer’ kind of idea.  Deep down we all want our children to have a future and the choices we make in regards to parenting, both good and bad, are all to that goal.  The problem is the everyday choices, good and bad, get lost in the shuffle.

Parenting is hard.  No one age is any harder or easier than any other.  They all come with their own joys and pitfalls.  Occasionally individual children have ages that are easier than others, but no one GREAT age over all.  Kids have temper tantrums.  My 10 year old STILL has temper tantrums almost daily.  People see this and try to judge what kind of parent I am.  Obviously I must be doing something wrong.  Children who are given consistency don’t act like this, right?  In this case, wrong. 

I have never once in either of my children’s lives given in to a temper tantrum.  Not once.  I have one particularly interesting memory that many parents laugh over when they hear the story of my son at age 2.  I was very pregnant with my daughter.  About to burst in a few weeks.  I was a single parent at that time.  I won’t bore you with the drama, but things were very hard for us.  I’d had to take public transportation with my heavy belly and a 2 year old on a 30 minute ride to get to the closest store I could pay a bill at.  I’d learned by then to pack snacks and toys and things to do.  I used the small cane stroller for ease on the bus, and otherwise employed all the tricks I could think of.  But my son was 2 and having to sit still and behave on a bus ride and walk for long distances and wait in lines.  Honestly there’s only so much a kid can take in that circumstance and there was no babysitter to leave him with, no kindly grandma nearby or even a trustworthy neighbor.  I couldn’t wait to pay the bill or I would lose electricity.  I couldn’t pay early because the doctor had taken me off work so I had no income worth talking about.  All the standard ideas parents and well meaning non-parents alike had for avoiding this situation were just not going to work.  We were in this ‘melt down waiting to happen’ place and no way to get out of it.

Anyone used to small children, parents or not, can see what is coming.  I don’t remember what I had to say no to, but that was the last straw for his baby mind.  He reached his limit in the middle of a store, waiting at the service counter.  I was rightfully exhausted, in pain from pregnancy problems and pretty much at my limit too.  I think it was the exhaustion that led to my response.  He sprawled his little baby butt on the floor of the store kicking and screaming.  As tantrums go, this was a mach 4.  I sighed and conducted my business.  I carefully scooted him away from everyone else and leaned against the counter watching him.  After a bit he stopped and looked at me as if to say, “Have you had enough yet?  Did I get my way?”  I know he was 2 and probably didn’t really understand what I said, but I looked at him and asked, “Are you done yet?”  He wasn’t.  This went on for another 10 minutes before he was tired enough to give up.  I’m not entirely sure he even remembered what the problem was.

I was too tired to carry him out of the store, but if I did where was I going to take him?  Truth be told he was beyond my high risk pregnancy weight limit so I could have done myself and his germinating sister damage.  The responses I got from people during this episode were an entire study in psychology.  Some laughed and encouraged me.  Even not knowing I really had no choice here, they got it.  They may or may not have been parents.  Some shook their heads in disgust.  They may or may not have been parents.  Some openly glared at me.  I’m pretty sure they were not parents, but they might have been. 

All I could think during this was that I was too tired to care what anyone thought of me and if I gave into him now, no matter how tired I was, he’ll never learn.  I wasn’t thinking, oh then he’ll be bad more often.  I was thinking how pathetic it would be to watch a grown man throw a tantrum (this of course excludes people with various issues like autism or FAS, etc.).  The bad part is, in my lifetime I have seen, otherwise mentally and emotionally healthy adults throw temper tantrums or think the world is their oyster.  These people, as annoying as they are, have not been taught to be adults.  For whatever reason, their parent’s eyes were not on the prize…the end result.

I don’t mean to be accusatory.  Parenting is literally the hardest job on the planet, and the most important…and the most rewarding.  As I said before I have not always made the right choice or been perfect, but my eye is always on the prize.  My kids suck at doing dishes.  They rush through and put things away dirty, they leave water everywhere, they break things.  Sure it’s easier and more effective to just do the dishes myself, and sometimes I’ve so had it with them I do, but what do they learn?  If I don’t stick to it now, when they move out on their own they’ll get sick or have bug infestations because they don’t know how to do the dishes right.  Sure it’s easier to just let them wear the morally reprehensible clothing options (tube tops, skirts that show butt cheeks, writing across the ass of pants, adds for drugs or alcohol) their friends wear, but then what kind of self respect am I teaching them?  What kind of mates are they going to end up with (gay or straight) then?  Sure it’s easier to just give the kid a candy bar or chips or caffeinated soda, but if I don’t work to give them healthy bodies now, how can I expect them to be healthy adults?  How can I expect them to make good food choice and to know that while this piece of pizza tastes great if they have too much they’ll feel sick.  I have to show them those connections.

I read a great blog post by Matt Walsh about peoples’ reactions to public temper tantrums.  It was a great read and made some valid points.  I encourage you to read it.  What I loved even more about the post was the conversation that ensued about it.  It wasn’t heavily abusive like I’ve seen some of those things go, but had a lot of great points and counter points.  The readers really thought about what he had to say.  Some agreed and some didn’t.  But it prompts me to say this:

When you see a child melting down in a public place, I know you are annoyed and irritated and parents and non parents alike wish the child would just stop remember this:  What kind of adult do you want to live with for 85% of their lives?  This 15% where parents work their hardest is short lived and the choices they make now effect an entire generation.  Remember as well that you have no idea what choices the parent has so don’t assume they can just leave or that good parents don’t have kids that throw temper tantrums. 

Society as a whole, parents and non parents alike, need to keep their eyes on the prize and stop judging.  Maybe if you, the person who may or may not have children, who may or may not be well behaved, took a moment to think about what kind of adult you want to share space with will do things like encourage the parent in question to stay the course because you don’t want this child thinking adults get to do these things.  You know that if the child does grow up thinking they can act like that, you’re the one that will have to share this planet with them.